


The Outsiders Rewrite - No Deaths

by liamthegreaser



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthegreaser/pseuds/liamthegreaser
Summary: I just added myself into the outsiders, and no one dies. Don’t read this unless you wanna cringe to death.
Relationships: Sodapop Curtis/Steve Randle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman--- he looks tough and I don't--- but I guess my own looks aren't so bad. I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair. 

I had a long walk home and no company, but I usually lone it anyway, for no reason except that I like to watch movies undisturbed so I can get into them and live them with the actors. When I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable, like having someone read your book over your shoulder. I'm different that way. I mean, my second- oldest brother, Soda, who is sixteen-going-on-seventeen, never cracks a book at all, and my oldest brother, Darrel, who we call Darry, works too long and hard to be interested in a story or drawing a picture, so I'm not like them. But my younger brother, Liam, likes books and movies the same as me. I reckon he’s the only one I could watch a movie with. And nobody in our gang digs movies and books the way I do. For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. But Liam was at the DX with Soda, so I loned it. 

Liam fully understands the movie. What with him wantin’ to be an actor, it would make sense he gets himself immersed in the movie. Soda tries to understand, at least, which is more than Darry does. But then, Soda an’ Liam are different from anybody; they understand everything, almost. Like they’re never hollering at me all the time the way Darry is, or treating me as if I was six instead of fourteen. I love Soda and Liam more than I've ever loved anyone else, even Mom and Dad. They’re both always happy-go-lucky and grinning, while Darry's hard and firm and rarely grins at all. But then, Darry's gone through a lot in his twenty years, grown up too fast. Sodapop'll never grow up at all. Liam is a mix of both of our oldest brothers. I don't know which way's the best. I'll find out one of these days.

Anyway, I went on walking home, thinking about the movie, and then suddenly wishing I had some company. Greasers can't walk alone too much or they'll get jumped,or someone will come by and scream "Greaser!" at them, which doesn't make you feel too hot, if you know what I mean. We get jumped by the Socs. I'm not sure how you spell it, but it's the abbreviation for the Socials, the jet set, the West-side rich kids. It's like the term "greaser," which is used to class all us boys on the East Side. 

We're poorer than the Socs and the middle class. I reckon we're wilder, too. Not like the Socs, who jump greasers and wreck houses and throw beer blasts for kicks, and get editorials in the paper for being a public disgrace one day and an asset to society the next. Greasers are almost like hoods; we steal things and drive old souped-up cars and hold up gas stations and have a gang fight once in a while. I don't mean I do things like that. Darry would kill me if I got into trouble with the police. Since Mom and Dad were killed in an auto wreck, the four of us get to stay together only as long as we behave. So Soda, Liam and I stay out of trouble as much as we can, and we're careful not to get caught when we can't. I only mean that most greasers do things like that, just like we wear our hair long and dress in blue jeans and T-shirts, or leave our shirttails out and wear leather jackets and tennis shoes or boots. I'm not saying that either Socs or greasers are better; that's just the way things are. 

I could have waited to go to the movies until Darry or Sodapop got off work. I could have asked Liam before he left to see Soda. They would have gone with me, or driven me there, or walked along, although Soda just can't sit still long enough to enjoy a movie and they bore Darry to death. Darry thinks his life is enough without inspecting other people's. Liam’s the only one who would’ve at least enjoyed the movie. Or I could have gotten one of the gang to come along, one of the four boys Darry and Soda and Liam and I have grown up with and consider family. We're almost as close as brothers; when you grow up in a tight-knit neighborhood like ours you get to know each other real well. If I had thought about it, I could have called Darry and he would have come by on his way home and picked me up, or Two-Bit Mathews--- one of our gang--- would have come to get me in his car if I had asked him, but sometimes I just don't use my head. It drives my brother Darry nuts when I do stuff like that, 'cause I'm supposed to be smart; I make good grades and have a high IQ and everything, but I don't use my head. Besides, I like walking. 

I about decided I didn't like it so much, though, when I spotted that red Corvair trailing me. I was almost two blocks from home then, so I started walking a little faster. I had never been jumped, but I had seen Johnny after four Socs got hold of him, and it wasn't pretty. Johnny was scared of his own shadow after that. Johnny was sixteen then. 

I knew it wasn't any use though--- the fast walking, I mean--- even before the Corvair pulled up beside me and five Socs got out. I got pretty scared--- I'm kind of small for fourteen even though I have a good build, and those guys were bigger than me. I automatically hitched my thumbs in my jeans and slouched, wondering if I could get away if I made a break for it. I remembered Johnny--- his face all cut up and bruised, and I remembered how he had cried when we found him, half-conscious, in the comer lot. Johnny had it awful rough at home--- it took a lot to make him cry. 

I was sweating something fierce, although I was cold. I could feel my palms getting clammy and the perspiration running down my back. I get like that when I'm real scared. I glanced around for a pop bottle or a stick or something--- Steve Randle, Soda's best buddy and boyfriend, had once held off four guys with a busted pop bottle--- but there was nothing. So I stood there like a bump on a log while they surrounded me. I don't use my head. They walked around slowly, silently, smiling. 

"Hey, grease," one said in an over-friendly voice. "We're gonna do you a favor, greaser. We're gonna cut all that long greasy hair off." 

He had on a madras shirt. I can still see it. Blue madras. One of them laughed, then cussed me out in a low voice. I couldn't think of anything to say. There just isn't a whole lot you can say while waiting to get mugged, so I kept my mouth shut. 

"Need a haircut, greaser?" The medium-sized blond pulled a knife out of his back pocket and flipped the blade open. 

I finally thought of something to say. "No." I was backing up, away from that knife. Of course I backed right into one of them. They had me down in a second. They had my arms and legs pinned down and one of them was sitting on my chest with his knees on my elbows, and if you don't think that hurts, you're crazy. I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything. I was scared so bad I was wishing I would. I fought to get loose, and almost did for a second; then they tightened up on me and the one on my chest slugged me a couple of times. So I lay still, swearing at them between gasps. A blade was held against my throat. 

"How'd you like that haircut to begin just below the chin?" 

It occurred to me then that they could kill me. I went wild. I started screaming for Liam, Soda, Darry, anyone. Someone put his hand over my mouth, and I bit it as hard as I could, tasting the blood running through my teeth. I heard a muttered curse and got slugged again, and they were stuffing a handkerchief in my mouth. One of them kept saying, "Shut him up, for Pete's sake, shut him up!" 

Then there were shouts and the pounding of feet, and the Socs jumped up and left me lying there, gasping. I lay there and wondered what in the world was happening--- people were jumping over me and running by me and I was too dazed to figure it out. Then someone had me under the armpits and was hauling me to my feet. It was Darry.  
"Are you all right, Ponyboy?" 

He was shaking me and I wished he'd stop. I was dizzy enough anyway. I could tell it was Darry though--- partly because of the voice and partly because Darry's always rough with me without meaning to be. 

"I'm okay. Quit shaking me, Darry, I'm okay." 

He stopped instantly. "I'm sorry." 

He wasn't really. Darry isn't ever sorry for anything he does. It seems funny to me that he should look just exactly like my father and act exactly the opposite from him. My father was only forty when he died and he looked twenty-five and a lot of people thought Darry and Dad were brothers instead of father and son. But they only looked alike--- my father was never rough with anyone without meaning to be. 

Darry is six-feet-four, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back--- just like Dad's--- but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty--- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold. He doesn't understand anything that is not plain hard fact. But he uses his head. 

I sat down again, rubbing my cheek where I'd been slugged the most.  
Darry jammed his fists in his pockets. "They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?"  
They did. I was smarting and aching and my chest was sore and I was so nervous my hands were shaking and I wanted to start bawling, but you just don't say that to Darry. 

"I'm okay." 

Liam was the second to show up, sliding on his knees the last two steps to get down to my level faster. “You okay, Pony?” He asked, concern filling his eyes. Liam was always like that, concerned about me, Soda, Darry, and everyone. I tried to muster a smile to show him there was nothin’ to worry about, but it’s hard to convince someone you’re fine when you’re almost bawling. 

Liam is around five-feet-four, and has hair most similar to Darry’s, except his colour is dirty blonde. His eyes are like mine, except more green. His eyes are softer than Darry’s, less intimidating. Liam’s the least scary out of the gang, tied with Johnny. Liam couldn’t intimidate a baby, even if he tried. He’s a full year younger than me, but some people confuse us as twins. I find that weird, as our age difference is big, and it looks like it. Liam is a lot like me, in some ways, we both enjoy movies, books, drawing, things like that. He’s a theatre kid- and it shows through his personality, which is most like Soda’s. Loud, reckless, and the like. He’s also like Darry, level-headed with his thinking, and he uses his head. He’s an interesting mix of all of us. 

He saw my attempt to smile, and he grinned back. Liam always gives back smiles. 

Sodapop came loping back. By then I had figured that all the noise I had heard was the gang coming to rescue me. He dropped down beside me, examining my head. Liam moved aside to let Soda get a better look at my face. 

"You got cut up a little, huh, Ponyboy?"  
I only looked at him blankly. "I did?"  
He pulled out a handkerchief, wet the end of it with his tongue, and pressed it gently against the side of my head. "You're bleedin' like a stuck pig."

"I am?" 

"Look!" He showed me the handkerchief, reddened as if by magic. "Did they pull a blade on you?" 

I remembered the voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" The blade must have slipped while he was trying to shut me up. "Yeah." 

Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry--- Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, he’s around six-foot-two, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time. He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back--- long and silky and straight--- and in the summer the sun bleaches it to a shining wheat gold. His eyes are dark brown--- lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes that can be gentle and sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next. He has Dad's eyes, but Soda is one of a kind. He can get drunk in a drag race or dancing without ever getting near alcohol. In our neighborhood it's rare to find a kid who doesn't drink once in a while. But Soda never touches a drop--- he doesn't need to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody. 

He looked at me more closely. I looked away hurriedly, because, if you want to know the truth, I was starting to bawl. I knew I was as white as I felt and I was shaking like a leaf. 

Soda just put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more." 

"I know," I said, but the ground began to blur and I felt hot tears running down my cheeks. I brushed them away impatiently. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all." I drew a quivering breath and quit crying. You just don't cry in front of Darry. Not unless you're hurt like Johnny had been that day we found him in the vacant lot. Compared to Johnny I wasn't hurt at all. 

Soda rubbed my hair. "You're an okay kid, Pony." 

I had to grin at him--- Soda can make you grin no matter what. I guess it's because he's always grinning so much himself. "You're crazy, Soda, out of your mind." 

“Didn’t we already know that?” Liam questioned, grinning at the joke he made. Soda shoved his arm, chuckling. 

Darry looked as if he'd like to knock our heads together. "All three of you are nuts." 

Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit. "It seems to run in this family." 

“Where do you think we learned it from, Darry? We need to get it from somewhere.” Liam joked, a smile with barely contained glee spreading across his face. 

Darry stared at them for a second, then cracked a grin. Sodapop and Liam aren’t afraid of him like everyone else and they enjoy teasing him. I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly; but for some reason, Darry seems to like being teased by them. 

Our gang had chased the Socs to their car and heaved rocks at them. They came running toward us now--- four lean, hard guys. They were all as tough as nails and looked it. l had grown up with them, and they accepted me, even though I was younger, because I was Darry and Soda's kid brother and I kept my mouth shut good. They didn’t mind Liam either, although he frequently did the opposite of keep his mouth shut. 

Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was tacky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school, and boyfriend of six months. Steve's specialty was cars. He could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood, but he also knew cars upside-down and backward, and he could drive anything on wheels. He and Soda worked at the same gas station--- Steve part time and Soda full time--- and their station got more customers than any other in town. Whether that was because Steve was so good with cars or because Soda attracted girls like honey draws flies, I couldn't tell you. I liked Steve only because he was Soda's best friend and boyfriend. He didn't like me--- he thought I was a tag-along and a kid; Soda always took me with them when they went places if they weren't on a date, and that bugged Steve. It wasn't my fault; Soda always asked me; I didn't ask him. Soda doesn't think I'm a kid. 

Steve likes Liam, though. I don’t really know why. Maybe it’s because Liam is closer to Soda, personality wise. I really don’t know, and I don’t care. 

Steve has a younger sibling, Cas. Cas and Liam always got along real good, best friends. Cas and Liam always talked, and they had each other’s backs. Maybe that’s why Steve liked him so much. Steve and Cas were almost the same person, it was a little freaky. Since Liam is also close to Soda in personality, it was like Steve and Soda 2.0. 

Two-Bit Mathews was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch. He was about six-feet-one, stocky in build, and very proud of his long rusty-colored sideburns. He had gray eyes and a wide grin, and he couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life. You couldn't shut up that guy; he always had to get his two-bits worth in. Hence his name. Even his teachers forgot his real name was Keith, and we hardly remembered he had one. Life was one big joke to Two-Bit. He was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade (which he couldn't have acquired without his first talent), and he was always smarting off to the cops. He really couldn't help it. Everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dull lives. (That's the way he explained it to me.) He liked fights, blondes, and for some unfathomable reason, school. He was still a junior at eighteen and a half and he never learned anything. He just went for kicks. I liked him real well because he kept us laughing at ourselves as well as at other things. He reminded me of Will Rogers--- maybe it was the grin. 

He had a brother, Cathan, who was around twelve years old. Cathan was almost exactly like Two-Bit, both wisecrackers who couldn’t stop joking to save their lives. Cathan was also close with Liam and Cas, an iconic trio, if you will. 

If I had to pick the real character of the gang, it would be Dallas Winston--- Dally. I used to like to draw his picture when he was in a dangerous mood, for then I could get his personality down in a few lines. He has an elfish face, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. His hair is blacker than ash, and he didn't like hair oil, so it fell over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts and curled behind his ears. His eyes are blue, blazing ice, cold with a hatred of the whole world. Dally had spent three years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten. He is tougher than the rest of us--- tougher, colder, meaner. The shade of difference that separates a greaser from a hood isn’t present in Dally. He was as wild as the boys in the downtown outfits, like Tim Shepard's gang. 

In New York, Dally blew off steam in gang fights, but here, organized gangs are rarities--- there are just small bunches of friends who stick together, and the warfare is between the social classes. A rumble, when it's called, is usually born of a grudge fight, and the opponents just happen to bring their friends along. Oh, there are a few named gangs around, like the River Kings and the Tiber Street Tigers, but here in the Southwest there's no gang rivalry. So Dally, even though he could get into a good fight sometimes, had no specific thing to hate. No rival gang. Only Socs. And you can't win against them no matter how hard you try, because they've got all the breaks and even whipping them isn't going to change that fact. Maybe that was why Dallas is so bitter. 

He had quite a reputation. They have a file on him down at the police station. He had been arrested, he got drunk, he rode in rodeos, lied, cheated, stole, rolled drunks, jumped small kids--- he did everything. I didn't like him, but he was smart and you had to respect him. 

Johnny Cade was last and not the least. If you can picture a man who’s been through too much in his sixteen years who somehow manages to be the person he is now, you’d have Johnnycakes. He was the youngest, next to me, next to Liam. He’s smaller than most of the gang, but slightly bigger than Liam, with a slight build. He had big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long that it fell in shaggy bangs across his forehead. He had a nervous, suspicious look in his eyes, and that beating he got from the Socs didn't help matters. He was the gang's pet, everyone's kid brother. His father was always beating him up, and his mother ignored him, except when she was hacked off at something, and then you could hear her yelling at him clear down at our house. I think he hated that worse than getting whipped. He would have run away a million times if we hadn't been there. If it hadn't been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are. But Johnny is a strong person, what with his home life, and you gotta respect him. 

I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Didya catch 'em?" 

"Nup. They got away this time, the dirty..." Two-Bit went on cheerfully, calling the Socs every name he could think of or make up. Liam nudged his elbow into Two-Bit’s arm, although having to raise his arm more than normally due to the height difference. Two-Bit laughed. 

"The kid's okay?" 

"I'm okay." I tried to think of something to say. I'm usually pretty quiet around people, even the gang. I changed the subject. "I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally." 

"Good behavior. Got off early." Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. Everyone sat down to have a smoke and relax. A smoke always lessens the tension. Liam doesn’t smoke, though, so he pulls out a pack of candy cigs to put in his mouth. It gets a kick out of the gang. I had quit trembling and my color was back. The cigarette was calming me down. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid." 

I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?"  
Two-Bit nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough." 

Tough and tuff are two different words. Tough is the same as rough; tuff means cool, sharp--- like a tuff-looking Mustang or a tuff record. In our neighborhood both are compliments. 

Steve flicked his ashes at me. "What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Leave it to good old Steve to bring up something like that. 

Liam and I glanced at each other. Whenever something like that happens, we look at each other. It’s something we’ve been doing since we were kids. 

Liam put a hand on his forehead, then flicked it away. The joys of having a gay brother. 

"I was comin' home from the movies. I didn't think..." 

"You don't ever think," Darry broke in, "not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade." 

I just stared at the hole in the toe of my tennis shoe. Me and Darry just didn't dig each other. I never could please him. He would have hollered at me for carrying a blade if I had carried one. If I brought home B's, he wanted A's, and if I got A's, he wanted to make sure they stayed A's. If I was playing football, I should be in studying, and if I was reading, I should be out playing football. He never hollered at Sodapop--- not even when Soda dropped out of school or got tickets for speeding. He doesn’t holler at Liam, either. Him and Liam get each other, they’re real close. But no, not to him or Soda or anyone. He just hollered at me. 

Soda was glaring at him. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons." 

Soda always takes up for me. 

Darry said impatiently, "When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you-- kid brother." But he laid off me. He always does when Sodapop tells him to. Most of the time. 

"Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy," Two-Bit said. "Any of us will." 

I looked around at our group, trying to catch what everyone was doing. I do that sometimes. Two-Bit was staring at his phone, playing a game. Soda had an arm slung around Steve’s shoulders. I looked at Johnny, who was staring longingly at his cigarette, not daring to take his eyes off. I turned my head to the left, and looked at Liam, who had his head leaning against Darry’s shoulder. Darry, in turn, had his head against Liam’s. Dally was tapping his foot, taking a long drag of his cigarette. 

"Speakin' of movies"--- Dally yawned, flipping away his cigarette butt--- "I'm walkin' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?" 

Steve shook his head. "Me and Soda are goin’ on a date at the game." 

He didn't need to look at me the way he did right then. I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I'd never tell Soda, because he really loves Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him. 

Darry sighed, just like I knew he would. Darry never had time to do anything anymore. "I'm working tomorrow night." I heard Liam sigh, slightly. I knew it bothered him that Darry was always working. 

Dally looked at the rest of us. "How about y'all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you, Liam, and Pony wanta come?" 

"Me, Liam, and Johnny'll come," I said. I knew Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he was forced to. "Okay, Darry?" 

"Yeah, since it ain't a school night." 

Darry was real good about letting me go places on the weekends. On school nights I could hardly leave the house. 

"I was plannin' on getting boozed up tomorrow night," Two-Bit said. "If I don't, I'll walk over and find y'all." 

Steve was looking at Dally's hand. His ring, which he had rolled a drunk senior to get, was back on his finger. "You break up with Sylvia again?" 

"Yeah, and this time it's for good. That little broad was two-timin' me again while I was in jail." Liam slightly gasped. “Oh, Dal. I’m sorry.” Dally looked at Liam, shrugged, and weakly grinned. “Don’t be. I’m done with her. Really.” 

I thought of Sylvia and Evie and Sandy and Two-Bit's many blondes. They were the only kind of girls that would look at us, I thought. Tough, loud girls who wore too much eye makeup and giggled and swore too much. I liked Soda's girl Sandy just fine, before they broke up. 

Her hair was natural blond and her laugh was soft, like her china-blue eyes. She didn't have a real good home or anything and was our kind--- greaser--- but she was a real nice girl. Still, lots of times I wondered what other girls were like. The girls who were bright-eyed and had their dresses a decent length and acted as if they'd like to spit on us if given a chance. Some were afraid of us, and remembering Dallas Winston, I didn't blame them. But most looked at us like we were dirt--- gave us the same kind of look that the Socs did when they came by in their Mustangs and Corvairs and yelled "Grease!" at us. I wondered about them. The girls, I mean... Did they cry when their boys were arrested, like Evie did when Steve got hauled in (before he broke up with her), or did they run out on them the way Sylvia did Dallas? But maybe their boys didn't get arrested or beaten up or busted up in rodeos. 

I was still thinking about it while I was doing my homework that night. I had to read Great Expectations for English, and that kid Pip, he reminded me of us--- the way he felt marked lousy because he wasn't a gentleman or anything, and the way that girl kept looking down on him. That happened to me once. One time in biology I had to dissect a worm, and the razor wouldn't cut, so I used my switchblade. The minute I flicked it out--- I forgot what I was doing or I would never have done it--- this girl right beside me kind of gasped, and said, "They are right. You are a hood." That didn't make me feel so hot. These were a lot of Socs in that class--- I get put into A classes because I'm supposed to be smart--- and most of them thought it was pretty funny. I didn't, though. She was a cute girl. She looked real good in yellow. Soda and Liam told me not to worry about it, that she didn’t know what she was talking about. I tried to believe them, but that kinda stuff sticks with you. 

We deserve a lot of our trouble, I thought. Dallas deserves everything he gets, and should get worse, if you want the truth. And Two-Bit--- he doesn't really want or need half the things he swipes from stores. He just thinks it's fun to swipe everything that isn't nailed down. I can understand why Sodapop and Steve get into drag races and fights so much, though--- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with no way to blow it off. Liam gets it out through the musical rehearsals he has three days a week, so I would guess that mightily helps. 

"Rub harder, Soda," I heard Darry mumbling. "You're gonna put me to sleep." 

I heard Liam chuckle. I looked through the door. Sodapop was giving Darry a back-rub, while Liam was sketching a drawing in his cartoony-style. Darry is always pulling muscles; he roofs houses and he's always trying to carry two bundles of roofing up the ladder. I knew Soda would put him to sleep, because Soda can put about anyone out when he sets his head to it. He thought Darry worked too hard anyway. I did, too. We all did. 

Darry didn't deserve to work like an old man when he was only twenty. He had been a real popular guy in school; he was captain of the football team and he had been voted Boy of the Year. But we just didn't have the money for him to go to college, even with the athletic scholarship he won. And now he didn't have time between jobs to even think about college. So he never went anywhere and never did anything anymore, except work out at gyms and go skiing with some old friends of his sometimes. 

I rubbed my cheek where it had turned purple. I had looked in the mirror, and it did make me look tough. But Darry had made me put a Band-Aid on the cut. 

I remembered how awful Johnny had looked when he got beaten up. I had just as much right to use the streets as the Socs did, and Johnny had never hurt them. Why did the Socs hate us so much? We left them alone. I nearly went to sleep over my homework trying to figure it out. 

Sodapop, who had jumped into bed by this time, yelled sleepily for me to turn off the light and get to bed. When I finished the chapter I was on, I did. 

I heard Liam walk by our room to his, speaking into the crack of the door. “Night, y’all.” “Night.” Soda and I yawned. I heard the squeak of the floorboards under his weight, until I heard his bedroom door close. 

Lying beside Soda, staring at the wall, I kept remembering the faces of the Socs as they surrounded me, that blue madras shirt the blond was wearing, and I could still hear a thick voice: "Need a haircut, greaser?" I shivered.

"You cold, Ponyboy?"

"A little;" I lied. Soda threw one arm across my neck. He mumbled something drowsily. "Listen, kiddo, when Darry hollers at you... he don't mean nothin'. He's just got more worries than somebody his age ought to. Don't take him serious... you dig, Pony? Don't let him bug you. He's really proud of you 'cause you're so brainy. It's just because you're one of the babies--- I mean, he loves you a lot. Savvy?" 

"Sure," I said, trying for Soda's sake to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “He doesn’t hark on Liam, though.” 

“Liam wouldn’t break a law no matter what it is. He stays outta trouble, we can’t say quite the same for you, what with what happened today. Not sayin’ either is a bad thing, just the way it is.” 

“I guess.” I shrugged. 

"Soda?" 

"Yeah?" 

"How come you dropped out?" I never have gotten over that. I could hardly stand it when he left school. 

" 'Cause I'm dumb. The only things I was passing anyway were auto mechanics and gym." 

"You're not dumb." 

"Yeah, I am. Shut up and I'll tell you something. Liam already knows, but don't tell Darry, though." "Okay." 

"I think I'm gonna marry Steve. After he gets out of his dad’s and I get a better job and everything. I might wait till you get out of school, though. So I can still help Darry with the bills and stuff." 

"Tuff enough. Wait till I get out, though, so you can keep Darry off my back." 

"Don't be like that, kid. I told you he don't mean half of what he says..."

"You in love with Steve? What's it like?"  
"Hhhmmm." He sighed happily. "It's real nice."

In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. Then I sighed. I didn't quite get what he meant about Darry. Darry thought I was just another mouth to feed and somebody to holler at. Darry love me? I thought of those hard, pale eyes. Soda was wrong for once, I thought. Darry doesn't love anyone or anything, except for Liam, and maybe Soda. I didn't hardly think of him as being human. I don't care, I lied to myself, I don't care about him either. Soda and Liam’s enough, and I'd have them until I got out of school. I don't care about Darry. But I was still lying and I knew it. I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down at the drive in (:

DALLY WAS WAITING for Johnny, Liam, and me under the street light at the corner of Pickett and Sutton, and since we got there early, we had time to go over the drugstore in the shopping center and goof around. We bought Cokes and blew the straws at the waitress, and walked around eyeing things that were lying out in the open until the manager got wise to us and suggested we leave. He was too late, though; Dally walked out with two packages of Kools under his jacket. Liam laughed. “You couldn’t grab anything more valuable or cool than cigs?” 

Dally shrugged, before providing a smile that would send chills down the back of the grim reaper. “Well, at least I’d use em.” 

Then we went across the street and down Sutton a little way to The Dingo. There are lots of drive-ins in town--- the Socs go to The Way Out and to Rusty's, and the greasers go to The Dingo and to Jay's. The Dingo is a pretty rough hangout; there's always a fight going on there and once a girl got shot. We walked around talking to all the greasers and hoods we knew, leaning in car windows or hopping into the back seats, and getting in on who was running away, and who was in jail, and who was going with who, and who could whip who, and who stole what and when and why. We knew about everybody there. There was a pretty good fight while we were there between a big twenty-three-year-old greaser and a Mexican hitchhiker. We left when the switchblades came out, because the cops would be coming soon and nobody in his right mind wants to be around when the fuzz show. Darry once told us if we were ever caught at the Dingo, he’d skin us. Liam never had a real interest in the dingo anyways “I’d prefer to keep my life, thank you.” 

We crossed Sutton and cut around behind Spencer's Special, the discount house, and chased two junior-high kids across a field for a few minutes; by then it was dark enough to sneak in over the back fence of the Nightly Double drive-in movie. It was the biggest in town, and showed two movies every night, and on weekends four--- you could say you were going to the Nightly Double and have time to go all over town. 

We all had the money to get in--- it only costs a quarter if you're not in a car--- but Dally hated to do things the legal way. He liked to show that he didn't care whether there was a law or not. He went around trying to break laws. We went to the rows of seats in front of the concession stand to sit down. Nobody else was there except two girls who were sitting down front. Dally eyed them coolly, then walked down the aisle and sat right behind them. I had a sick feeling that Dally was up to his usual tricks, and I was right. He started talking, loud enough for the two girls to hear. He started out bad and got worse. Dallas could talk awful dirty if he wanted to and I guess he wanted to then. I felt my ears get hot. I glanced over to my kid brother, who was tapping his hand on his knee repeatedly, eyes glued to the screen. He was trying real hard not to say anything. Two-Bit or Steve or even Soda would have gone right along with Dally, just to see if they could embarrass the girls, but that kind of kicks just doesn't appeal to me. I sat there, struck dumb, and Johnny left hastily to get a Coke. 

I wouldn't have felt so embarrassed if they had been greasy girls--- I might even have helped old Dallas. But those two girls weren't our kind. They were tuff-looking girls--- dressed sharp and really good-looking. They looked about sixteen or seventeen. One had short dark hair, and the other had long red hair. The redhead was getting mad, or scared. She sat up straight and she was chewing hard on her gum. The other one pretended not to hear Dally. Dally was getting impatient. He put his feet up on the back of the redhead's chair, winked at me and Liam, and beat his own record for saying something dirty. She turned around and gave him a cool stare.  
"Take your feet off my chair and shut your trap." 

Boy, she was good-looking. I'd seen her before; she was a cheerleader at our school. I'd always thought she was stuck-up. 

Dally merely looked at her and kept his feet where they were. "Who's gonna make me?" 

The other one fumed around and watched us. "That's the greaser that jockeys for the Slash J sometime," she said, as if we couldn't hear her. 

I had heard the same tone a million times: "Greaser... greaser... greaser." Oh yeah, I had heard that tone before too many times. What are they doing at a drive-in without a car? I thought, and Dallas said, "I know you two. I've seen you around rodeos." 

"It's a shame you can't ride bull half as good as you can talk it," the redhead said coolly and turned back around. I heard Liam exhale quickly in a laugh, and he covered his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing. That in itself almost made me start chuckling. 

Dally didn’t seem notice. And Cherry’s insult didn't bother Dally in the least. "You two barrel race, huh?" 

"You'd better leave us alone," the redhead said in a biting voice, "or I'll call the cops." 

"Oh, my, my"--- Dally looked bored--- "you've got me scared to death. You ought to see my record sometime, baby." He grinned slyly. "Guess what I've been in for?" 

"Please leave us alone," she said. "Why don't you be nice and leave us alone?"  
Dally grinned roguishly. "I'm never nice. Want a Coke?" 

She was mad by then. "I wouldn't drink it if I was starving in the desert. Get lost, hood!" 

Dally merely shrugged and strolled off.  
The girl looked at me and Liam. I was half-scared of her. I'm half-scared of all nice girls, especially Socs. "Are you two going to start in on us?" 

We shook our heads, wide-eyed. "No." 

Suddenly she smiled. Gosh, she was pretty. "You boys don't look the type. What's your names?" 

I wished she hadn't asked me that. Liam looked at me, sympathetically. I hate to tell people my name for the first time. Liam knows that. "Ponyboy Curtis." 

Then I waited for the "You're kidding!" or "That's your real name?" or one of the other remarks I usually get. Ponyboy's my real name and personally I like it.  
The redhead just smiled. "That's an original and lovely name." 

"Our dad was an original person," I said. "We’ve got a brother named Sodapop, and it says so on his birth certificate." 

“Really? How interesting!” I could tell by her smile she meant no harm, but I know what the word interesting means. It means weird. Cherry’s strawberry hair moved with her head as she turned her head to Liam. “And you?” 

Liam stuck his hand up in a short wave, grinning. Liam’s a lot like me with new people, silent and shy at first. That’s why he can never order for himself at restaurants, too many nerves. “Liam, nice to meet cha.” 

"You too. My name's Sherri, but I'm called Cherry because of my hair. Cherry Valance." "I know," I said. "You're a cheerleader. We all go to the same school."

"You two don't look old enough to be going to high school," the dark-haired girl said. "We’re not. Liam goes to the connecting middle school and I got put up a year in grade school.” 

Cherry was looking at me. "What’re nice, smart kids like you boys running around with trash like that for?" 

I felt myself stiffen. I didn’t even need to look at my baby brother, I could already tell he grimaced at that comment. "We’re greasers, same as Dally. He's our buddy." 

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Then she said briskly, "Your guys’ brother Sodapop, does he work at a gasoline station? A DX, I think?" 

"Yeah." We said at the same time. 

"Man, your guys’ brother is one doll. I might have guessed you were brothers--- you three look alike." 

I grinned with pride--- I don't think I look one bit like Soda, but it's not every day I hear Socs telling me they think my brother is a doll. 

I saw in the corner of my eye my brother smiling to the floor. He and Soda do look mighty alike, aside from the hair. They both have a bright smile that can get anyone to smile with them. 

"Didn't he used to ride in rodeos? Saddle bronc?" 

"Yeah. Dad made him quit after he tore a ligament, though. We still hang around rodeos a lot. I've seen you two barrel race. You're good." 

"Thanks," Cherry said, and the other girl, who was named Marcia, said, "How come we don't see your brother at school? He's not any older than sixteen or seventeen, is he?" 

I winced inside. I've told you I can't stand it that Soda dropped out. "He's a dropout," I said roughly. "Dropout" made me think of some poor dumb-looking hoodlum wandering the streets breaking out street lights--- it didn't fit our happy-go-lucky brother at all. It fitted Dally perfectly, but you could hardly say it about Soda. 

Johnny came back then and sat down beside Liam. He looked around for Dally, then managed a shy "Hi" to the girls and tried to watch the movie. He was nervous, though. Johnny was always nervous around strangers. Cherry looked at him, sizing him up as she had me. Then she smiled softly, and I knew she had him sized up right. 

Dally came striding back with an armful of Cokes. He handed one to each of the girls and sat down beside Cherry. "This might cool you off." 

She gave him an incredulous look; and then she threw her Coke in his face. "That might cool you off, greaser. After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off, too." 

Liam and Johnny both slightly jumped. He covered his mouth, in shock. Liam and I shared one of our classic glances, before whipping our heads back over to what might as well be a crime scene waiting to happen. 

Dally wiped the Coke off his face with his sleeve and smiled dangerously. If I had been Cherry I would have beat it out of there. I knew that smile. 

"Fiery, huh? Well, that's the way I like 'em." He started to put his arm around her, but Johnny reached over and stopped him. 

"Leave her alone, Dally." 

"Huh?" Dally was taken off guard. He stared at Johnny in disbelief. Johnny couldn't say "Boo" to a goose. Johnny gulped and got a little pale, but he said, "You heard me. Leave her alone." 

Dallas scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda or Steve, or anyone but Johnny (maybe Liam, but I ain’t too sure), Dally would have flattened him without a moment's hesitation. You just didn't tell Dally Winston what to do. One time, in a dime store, a guy told him to move over at the candy counter. Dally had turned around and belted him so hard it knocked a tooth loose. A complete stranger, too. But Johnny was the gang's pet, and Dally just couldn't hit him. He was Dally's pet, too. Dally got up and stalked off, his fists jammed in his pockets and a frown on his face. He didn't come back. 

Cherry sighed in relief. "Thanks. He had me scared to death." 

Johnny managed an admiring grin. "You sure didn't show it. Nobody talks to Dally like that."

She smiled, "From what I saw, you do."  
Johnny's ears got red. I was still staring at him. It had taken more than nerve for him to say what he'd said to Dally--- Johnny worshiped the ground Dallas walked on, and I had never heard Johnny talk back to anyone, much less his hero. 

Marcia grinned at us. She was a little smaller than Cherry. She was cute, but that Cherry Valance was a real looker. "Y'all sit up here with us. You can protect us." 

Johnny and I looked at each other. He grinned suddenly, raising his eyebrows so that they disappeared under his bangs. Would we ever have something to tell the boys! his eyes said plainly. We had picked up two girls, and classy ones at that. Not any greasy broads for us, but real Socs. Soda would flip when I told him. 

"Okay," I said nonchalantly, "might as well." 

Liam rolled his eyes. He could see through whatever face I was putting on. 

Me and Liam sat between them, Liam to my left, and Johnny sat next to Cherry. 

"How old are y'all?" Marcia asked.  
"Fourteen," I said. 

“Thirteen.” Liam stated, nodding to Cherry. She smiled in reply. 

"Sixteen," said Johnny. 

'That's funny," Marcia said, "I thought you all were..." 

"Sixteen," Cherry finished for her. 

I was grateful. Johnny looked fourteen and he knew it and it bugged him something awful. I saw Liam slightly pump his fist in the air. He loved being told he looks older than he is. Once, someone told him he looked seventeen, and wouldn’t shut his trap for the rest of the day, telling anyone who hadn’t already heard. 

“I look older than Sodapop! Little old me, the new second oldest.” I remember him saying that so clearly. Darry and Soda kept laughing at how much Liam beamed.

Johnny grinned. "How come y'all ain't scared of us like you were Dally?" 

Cherry sighed. "You three are too sweet to scare anyone. First of all, you didn't join in Dallas's dirty talk, and you made him leave us alone. And when we asked you to sit up here with us, you didn't act like it was an invitation to make out for the night. Besides that, I've heard about Dallas Winston, and he looked as hard as nails and twice as tough. And you three don't look mean." 

"Sure," I said tiredly, "we're young and innocent" 

"No," Cherry said slowly, looking at me carefully, "not innocent. You've seen too much to be innocent. Just not... dirty." 

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and Liam and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber. "He's tough, but he's a cool old guy." 

"He'd leave you alone if he knew you," I said, and that was true. When Steve's cousin from Kansas came down, Dally was decent to her and watched his swearing. We all did around nice girls who were the cousinly type. I don't know how to explain it--- we try to be nice to the girls we see once in awhile, like cousins or the girls in class; but we still watch a nice girl go by on a street corner and say all kinds of lousy stuff about her. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. 

"Well," Marcia said with finality, "I'm glad he doesn't know us." 

"I kind of admire him," Cherry said softly, so only I heard, and then we settled down to watch the movie. 

Oh, yeah, we found out why they were without a car. They'd come with their boyfriends, but walked out on them when they found out the boys had brought some booze along. The boys had gotten angry and left. 

"I don't care if they did." Cherry sounded annoyed. "It's not my idea of a good time to sit in a drive-in and watch people get drunk." 

You could tell by the way she said it that her idea of a good time was probably, high-class, and probably expensive. They'd decided to stay and see the movie anyway. It was one of those beach-party movies with no plot and no acting but a lot of girls in bikinis and some swinging songs, so it was all right. We were all five sitting there in silence when suddenly a strong hand came down on Johnny's shoulder and another halfway on mine and Liam’s, and a deep voice said, "Okay, greasers, you've had it" 

I almost jumped out of my skin. Liam flinched hard, one hand over his pocket where he kept his pink switch blade, and one hand on Johnny’s arm. It was like having someone leap out from behind a door and yell "Boo!" at you. 

We looked fearfully over our shoulders and there was Two-Bit, grinning like a Chessy cat. "Glory, Two-Bit, scare us to death!" He was good at voice imitations and had sounded for all the world like a snarling Soc. Liam huffed, annoyed. Then I looked at Johnny. His eyes were shut and he was as white as a ghost. His breath was coming in smothered gasps. Two-Bit knew better than to scare Johnny like that. I guess he'd forgotten. He's kind of scatterbrained. Johnny opened his eyes and said weakly, "Hey, Two-Bit." 

Two-Bit messed up his hair, "Sorry, kid," he said, "I forgot."

He climbed over the chair and plopped down beside Marcia. "Who's this, your great-aunts?"

"Great-grandmothers, twice removed," Cherry said smoothly. 

I couldn't tell if Two-Bit was drunk or not. It's kind of hard to tell with him--- he acts boozed up sometimes even when he's sober. He cocked one eyebrow up and the other down, which he always does when something puzzles him, or bothers him, or when he feels like saying something smart. "Shoot, you're ninety-six if you're a day." 

"I'm a night," Marcia said brightly. Two-Bit stared at her admiringly. 

"Brother, you're a sharp one. Where'd you two ever get to be picked up by a few greasy hoods like Pony, Liam, and Johnny?"

"We really picked them up," Marcia said. "We're really Arabian slave traders and we're thinking about shanghaiing them. They're worth ten camels apiece at least."

"Five," Two-Bit disagreed. "They don't talk Arabian, I don't think. Say somethin' in Arabian, Johnnycake."

"Aw, cut it out!" Johnny broke in. Liam opened his sticker-covered Nalgene and took a swig. "Dally was bothering them and when he left they wanted us to sit with them to protect them. Against wisecracking greasers like you, probably." 

Two-Bit grinned, because Johnny didn't usually get sassy like that. We thought we were doing good if we could get him to talk at all. Incidentally, we don't mind being called greaser by another greaser. It's kind of playful then. Liam laughed, mid-drink, and ended up choking on his water, getting it all over himself. Which made everyone start laughing harder. 

“You good, kid?” Two-Bit questioned, chortling, slapping Liam’s back in an attempt to make him stop coughing. “I’m graceful, what can I say?” He chuckled, closing his bottle, and rubbing his shirt to make the water stains less noticeable. 

"Hey, where is of Dally, anyways?"

"He went hunting some action--- booze or dames or a fight. I hope he don't get jailed again. He just got out"

"He'll probably find the fight," Two-Bit stated cheerfully. "That's why I came over. Mr. Timothy Shepard and Co. are looking for whoever so kindly slashed their car's tires, and since Mr. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it... well... Does Dally have a blade?" 

"Not that I know of," I said. "I think he's got a piece of pipe, but he busted his blade this morning." 

"Good. Tim'll fight fair if Dally don't pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn't have any trouble." 

Cherry and Marcia were staring at us. "You don't believe in playing rough or anything, do you?"

"A fair fight isn't rough;' Two-Bit said. "Blades are rough. So are chains and heaters and pool sticks and rumbles. Skin fighting isn't rough. It blows off steam better than anything. There's nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. They gang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs. Us greasers usually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it's a fair fight between two. And Dally deserves whatever he gets, 'cause slashed tires ain't no joke when you've got to work to pay for them. He got spotted, too, and that was his fault. Our one rule, besides Stick together, is Don't get caught. He might get beat up, he might not. Either way there's not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard's, If we needed them tomorrow they'd show. If Tim beats Dally's head in, and then tomorrow asks us for help in a rumble, we'll show. Dally was getting kicks. He got caught. He pays up. No sweat." 

"Yeah, boy," Cherry said sarcastically, "real simple."

"Sure," Marcia said, unconcerned. "If he gets killed or something, you just bury him. No sweat" 

"You dig okay, baby." Two-Bit grinned and lit a cigarette. "Anyone want a weed?" 

I looked at Two-Bit admiringly. He sure put things into words good. Maybe he was still a junior at eighteen and a half, and maybe his sideburns were too long, and maybe he did get boozed up too much, but he sure understood things.

Cherry, Liam, and Marcia shook their heads at his offering of cigarettes, but Johnny and I reached for one. Johnny's color was back and his breathing was regular, but his hand was shaking ever so slightly. A cigarette would steady it. Liam instinctually pulled out his candy sticks. 

"Ponyboy, will you come with me to get some popcorn?" Cherry asked. 

I jumped up. "Sure. Y'all want some?" 

"I do," said Marcia. She was finishing the Coke Dally had given her. I realized then that Marcia and Cherry weren't alike. Cherry had said she wouldn't drink Dally's Coke if she was starving, and she meant it. It was the principle of the thing. But Marcia saw no reason to throw away a perfectly good, free Coke. 

"Me too," said Two-Bit. He flipped me a fifty cent piece. "Get Johnny some, too. I'm buyin'," he added as Johnny started to reach into his jeans pocket. 

I looked at Liam for his answer. “No thanks, Pony.” He nonchalantly thanked, tapping his phone. I looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and he was on talking on group chat with Cas and Cathan. I rolled my eyes. He’s never not talking to them. 

We went to the concession stand and, as usual, there was a line a mile long, so we had to wait. Quite a few kids turned to look at us--- you didn't see a kid grease and a Socy cheerleader together often. Cherry didn't seem to notice. 

"Your friend--- the one with the sideburns--- he's okay?" 

"He ain't dangerous like Dallas if that's what you mean. He's okay." 

“And the blonde?” She asked, her eyes doing almost all the talking. 

“The blonde is my brother. He’s cool, too.” 

“Oh, I should have figured. He looks a lot like you.”

She smiled and her eyes showed that her mind was on something else. "Johnny... he's been hurt bad sometime, hasn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Hurt and scared." 

"It was the Socs," I said nervously, because there were plenty of Socs milling around and some of them were giving me funny looks, as if I shouldn't be with Cherry or something. And I don't like to talk about it either--- Johnny getting beat up, I mean. But I started in, talking a little faster than I usually do because I don't like to think about it either. 

IT WAS ALMOST four months ago. Liam and I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy us a couple of bottles and let us help work on the cars. Well, at least I would. Liam tried to follow along, but ended up getting bored and redoing the choreography from his musical. I don't like to go on weekends because then there is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda--- all kinds of girls, Socs too. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. 

It was a warmish spring day with the sun shining bright, but it was getting chilly and dark by the time we started for home. We were walking because we had left Steve's car at the station. At the corner of our block there's a wide, open field where we play football and hang out, and it's often a site for rumbles and fist fights. We were passing it, kicking rocks down the street and finishing our last bottle of Pepsi, when Steve noticed something lying on the ground. He picked it up. It was Johnny's blue-jeans jacket--- the only jacket he had. 

"Looks like Johnny forgot his jacket," Steve said, slinging it over his shoulder to take it by Johnny's house. Suddenly he stopped and examined it more carefully. There was a stain the color of rust across the collar. He looked at the ground. There were some more stains on the grass. He looked up and across the field with a stricken expression on his face. I think we all heard the low moan and saw the dark motionless hump on the other side of the lot at the same time. Soda reached him first. Johnny was lying face down on the ground. Soda turned him over gently, and I nearly got sick. Liam starting crying. Someone had beaten him badly. 

We were used to seeing Johnny banged up--- his father clobbered him around a lot, and although it made us madder than heck, we couldn't do anything about it. But those beatings had been nothing like this. Johnny's face was cut up and bruised and swollen, and there was a wide gash from his temple to his cheekbone. He would carry that scar all his life. His white T-shirt was splattered with blood. I just stood there, trembling with sudden cold. I thought he might be dead; surely nobody could be beaten like that and live. Steve closed his eyes for a second and muffled a groan as he dropped on his knees behind Soda. 

Somehow the gang sensed what had happened. Two-Bit was suddenly there beside me, and for once his comical grin was gone and his dancing gray eyes were stormy. Darry had seen us from our porch and ran toward us, suddenly skidding to a halt. Dally was there, too, swearing under his breath, and turning away with a sick expression on his face. I wondered about it vaguely. Dally had seen people killed on the streets of New York's West Side. Why did he look sick now? 

"Johnny?" Soda lifted him up and held him against his shoulder. He gave the limp body a slight shake. "Hey, Johnnycake." 

Johnny didn't open his eyes, but there came a soft question. "Soda?" 

"Yeah, it's me," Sodapop said. "Don't talk. You're gonna be okay." 

"There was a whole bunch of them," Johnny went on, swallowing, ignoring Soda's command. "A blue Mustang full... I got so scared..." He tried to swear, but suddenly started crying, fighting to control himself, then sobbing all the more because he couldn't. I had seen Johnny take a whipping with a two-by-four from his old man and never let out a whimper. That made it worse to see him break now. Soda just held him and pushed Johnny's hair back out of his eyes. "It's okay, Johnnycake, they're gone now. It's okay." 

Finally, between sobs, Johnny managed to gasp out his story. He had been hunting our football to practice a few kicks when a blue Mustang had pulled up beside the lot. There were four Socs in it. They had caught him and one of them had a lot of rings on his hand--- that's what had cut Johnny up so badly. It wasn't just that they had beaten him half to death--- he could take that. They had scared him. They had threatened him with everything under the sun. Johnny was high-strung anyway, a nervous wreck from getting belted every time he turned around and from hearing his parents fight all the time. Living in those conditions might have turned someone else rebellious and bitter; it was killing Johnny. He had never been a coward, and he isn’t now. He is a good man in a rumble. He stuck up for the gang and kept his mouth shut good around cops. But after the night of the beating, Johnny was jumpier than ever. I didn't think he'd ever get over it. He did, though. Sure, sometimes he’s a little more… on edge, but he’s not a little kid that needs defendin’. He can handle himself, and he knows that. We all do. And Johnny, who was the most law-abiding of us, now carried in his back pocket a six-inch switchblade. He'd use it, too, if he ever got jumped again. They had scared him that much. He would kill the next person who jumped him. Nobody was ever going to beat him like that again. Not over his dead body… 

I HAD NEARLY forgotten that Cherry was listening to me. But when I came back to reality and looked at her, I was startled to find her as white as a sheet.

"All Socs aren't like that," she said. "You have to believe me, Ponyboy. Not all of us are like that."

"Sure," I said.

"That's like saying all you greasers are like Dallas Winston. I'll bet he's jumped a few people."

I digested that. It was true. Dally had jumped people. He had told us stories about muggings in New York that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But not all of us were that bad. 

Cherry no longer looked sick, only sad. "I'll bet you think the Socs have it made. The rich kids, the West-side Socs. I'll tell you something, Ponyboy, and it may come as a surprise. We have troubles you've never even heard of. You want to know something?" She looked me straight in the eye. "Things are rough all over." 

"I believe you," I said. "We'd better get back out there with the popcorn or Two- Bit'll think I ran off with his money." 

We went back and watched the movie through again. Marcia and Two-Bit were hitting it off fine. Both had the same scatterbrained sense of humor. Cherry, Johnny, Liam, and I were having our own discussion. I quit worrying about everything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen to her swear or to beat her off with a club. I knew Johnny liked it, too. He didn't talk to girls much. Once, while Dallas was in reform school, Sylvia had started hanging on to Johnny and sweet talking him and Steve got hold of her and told her if she tried any of her tricks with Johnny he'd personally beat the tar out of her. Then he gave Johnny a lecture on girls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As a result, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared of Steve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell. 

I got the same lecture from Two-Bit after we'd picked up a couple of girls downtown one day. I thought it was funny, because girls are one subject even Darry thinks I use my head about. And it really had been funny, because Two-Bit was half crocked when he gave me the lecture, and he told me some stories that about made me want to crawl under the floor or something. Liam never got the girl talk, because he doesn’t dig girls like us. He did, however, get the boy talk from Darry and Soda. I ended up also getting dragged into it. Liam kept trying to tell ‘em he understood, but they were real persistent. “You understand? Boys your age will do anything to get you to-“ Liam cut him off before he could finish. “YES, I GET IT, DUDE. GUYS SUCK, WHATS NEW.” Liam threw a pillow at Darry’s face. I half expected Darry to kill him right there, but he instead grinned and whipped the pillow back. I don’t really understand their dynamic. 

Anyway, but Two-Bit had been talking about girls like Sylvia and the girls he and Dally and the rest picked up at drive-ins and downtown; he never said anything about Socy girls. So I figured it was all right to be sitting there with them. Even if they did have their own troubles. I really couldn't see what Socs would have to sweat about--- good grades, good cars, good girls, madras and Mustangs and Corvairs--- Man, I thought, if I had worries like that I'd consider myself lucky.


	3. Chapter 3

AFTER THE MOVIE was over it suddenly came to us that Cherry and Marcia didn't have a way to get home. Two-Bit gallantly offered to walk them home--- the west side of town was only about twenty miles away--- but they wanted to call their parents and have them come and get them. Two-Bit finally talked them into letting us drive them home in his car. I think they were still half-scared of us. They were getting over it, though, as we walked to Two-Bit's house to pick up the car. It seemed funny to me that Socs--- if these girls were any example--- were just like us. They liked the Beatles and thought Elvis Presley was out, and we thought the Beatles were rank and that Elvis was tuff, but that seemed the only difference to me. Of course greasy girls would have acted a lot tougher, but there was a basic sameness. I thought maybe it was money that separated us. 

"No," Cherry said slowly when I said this. "It's not just money. Part of it is, but not all. You greasers have a different set of values. You're more emotional. We're sophisticated--- cool to the point of not feeling anything. Nothing is real with us. You know, sometimes I'll catch myself talking to a girl-friend, and realize I don't mean half of what I'm saying. I don't really think a beer blast on the river bottom is super-cool, but I'll rave about one to a girl-friend just to be saying something." She smiled at me. "I never told anyone that. I think you're the first person I've ever really gotten through to." 

She was coming through to me all right, probably because I was a greaser, and younger; she didn't have to keep her guard up with me. 

"Rat race is a perfect name for it," she said. "We're always going and going and going, and never asking where. Did you ever hear of having more than you wanted? So that you couldn't want anything else and then started looking for something else to want? It seems like we're always searching for something to satisfy us, and never finding it. Maybe if we could lose our cool. we could." 

That was the truth. Socs were always behind a wall of aloofness, careful not to let their real selves show through. I had seen a social-club rumble once. The Socs even fought coldly and practically and impersonally. 

"That's why we're separated," I said. "It's not money, it's feeling--- you don't feel anything and we feel too violently." 

"And"--- she was trying to hide a smile--- "that's probably why we take turns getting our names in the paper." 

Two-Bit and Marcia weren't even listening to us. They were engaged in some wild conversation that made no sense to anyone but themselves. 

I have quite a rep for being quiet, almost as quiet as Johnny. Two-Bit always said he wondered why Johnny and I were such good buddies. "You must make such interestin' conversation," he'd say, cocking one eyebrow, "you keepin' your mouth shut and Johnny not sayin' anything." But Johnny and I understood each other without saying anything. Nobody but Soda or Liam could really get me talking. Till I met Cherry Valance. 

I don't know why I could talk to her; maybe for the same reason she could talk to me. The first thing I knew I was telling her about Mickey Mouse, Soda's horse. I had never told anyone about Soda's horse. It was personal. Liam and Johnny listened as I went on to Cherry about Mickey Mouse. 

Soda had this buckskin horse, only it wasn't his. It belonged to a guy who kept it at the stables where Soda used to work. Mickey Mouse was Soda's horse, though. The first day Soda saw him he said, "There's my horse," and I never doubted it. I was about ten then. Sodapop is horsecrazy. I mean it. He's always hanging around stables and rodeos, hopping on a horse every time he gets a chance. When I was ten I thought that Mickey Mouse and Soda looked alike and were alike. Mickey Mouse was a dark-gold buckskin, sassy and ornery, not much more than a colt. He'd come when Soda called him. He wouldn't come for anyone else. That horse loved Soda. He'd stand there and chew on Soda's sleeve or collar. Gosh, but Sodapop was crazy about that horse. He went down to see him every day. Mickey Mouse was a mean horse: He kicked other horses and was always getting into trouble. "I've got me a ornery pony," Soda'd tell him, rubbing his neck. "How come you're so mean, Mickey Mouse?" Mickey Mouse would just chew on his sleeve and sometimes nip him. But not hard. He may have belonged to another guy, but he was Soda's horse. 

"Does Soda still have him?" Cherry asked. 

"He got sold," I said. "They came and got him one day and took him off. He was a real valuable horse. Pure quarter."

She didn't say anything else and I was glad. I couldn't tell her that Soda had bawled all night long after they came and got Mickey Mouse. I had cried, too, if you want to know the truth, because Soda never really wanted anything except a horse, and he'd lost his. Soda had been twelve then, going-on-thirteen. He never let on to Mom and Dad how he felt, though, because we never had enough money and usually we had a hard time making ends meet. When you're thirteen in our neighborhood you know the score. I kept saving my money for a year, thinking that someday I could buy Mickey Mouse back for Soda. You're not so smart at ten. 

"You read a lot, don't you, Ponyboy?" Cherry asked.

I was startled. "Yeah. Why?"

She kind of shrugged. "I could just tell. I'll bet you watch sunsets, too." She was quiet for a minute after I nodded. "I used to watch them, too, before I got so busy..."

I pictured that, or tried to. Maybe Cherry stood still and watched the sun set while she was supposed to be taking the garbage out. Stood there and watched and forgot everything else until her big brother screamed at her to hurry up. I shook my head. It seemed funny to me that the sunset she saw from her patio and, the one I saw from the back steps was the same one. Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset. 

Marcia suddenly gasped. "Cherry, look what's coming." 

We all looked and saw a blue Mustang coming down the street. Johnny made a small noise in his throat and when I looked at him he was white. I looked a little farther to Liam, who’s hand was jumping all over the place. He does that when he’s nervous. Two-Bit: on the other hand, was nothing short of unbothered. 

Marcia was shifting nervously. "What are we going to do?"

Cherry bit a fingernail. "Stand here," she said. "There isn't much else we can do."

"Who is it?" Two-Bit asked. "The F.B.I.?" 

"No," Cherry said bleakly, "it's Randy and Bob."

"And," Two-Bit added grimly, "a few other of the socially elite checkered-shirt set"

"Your boyfriends?" Johnny's voice was steady, but standing as close to him as I was, I could see he was trembling. I wondered why--- Johnny was a nervous wreck, but he never was that jumpy. 

“Great. Freaking mint.” Liam added. 

Cherry started walking down the street. "Maybe they won't see us. Act normal."

"Who's acting?" Two-Bit grinned. "I'm a natural normal."

"Wish it was the other way around," I muttered, and Two-Bit said, "Don't get mouthy, Ponyboy"

The Mustang passed us slowly and went right on by. Marcia sighed in relief. 'That was close." I heard Johnny and Liam exhale, relieved. 

Cherry turned to me. "Tell me about you boys’ oldest brother. You don't talk much about him."

I tried to think of something to say about Darry, and shrugged. "What's to talk about? He's big and handsome and likes to play football." 

“Wow, don’t use too many details, Pony.” Liam giggled. I glared at him, and he noticed my expression. He stopped smiling and looked down at his feet. 

"I mean, what's he like? I feel like I know Soda from the way you talk about him; tell me about Darry." And when I was silent she urged me on. "Is he wild and reckless like Soda? Dreamy, like you?" My face got hot as I bit my lip. Darry... what was Darry like? "He's..." I started to say he was a good ol' guy but I couldn't. I burst out bitterly: "He's not like Sodapop at all and he sure ain't like me. He's hard as a rock and about as human. He's got eyes exactly like frozen ice. He thinks I'm a pain in the neck. He likes Soda--- everybody likes Soda--- but he can't stand me. Him and Liam sure have a bond, too- real close. Treats Liam like his best buddy, and they don’t think I notice, well I do. And I bet Darry wishes he could stick me in a home somewhere, and he'd do it, too, if Soda'd let him." 

Two-Bit, Liam, and Johnny were staring at me now. "No..." Two-Bit said, dumfounded. "No, Ponyboy, that ain't right... you got it wrong..." 

“Dude, that ain’t true at all. That’s not even close to being true.” Liam persisted. 

"Gee," Johnny said softly, "I thought you and Darry and Soda got along real well..."

"Well, we don't," I snapped, feeling silly. I knew my ears were red by the way they were burning, and I was thankful for the darkness. I felt stupid. Compared to Johnny's home, mine was heaven. At least Darry didn't get drunk and beat me up or run me out of the house, and I had Sodapop and Liam to talk things over with. That made me mad, I mean making a fool of myself in front of everyone. "An' you can shut your trap, Johnny Cade, 'cause we all know you ain't wanted at home, either. And you can't blame them." 

“PONYBOY.” Liam fiercely yelled. 

Johnny's eyes went round and he winced as though I'd belted him. Two-Bit slapped me a good one across the side of the head, and hard.

"Shut your mouth, kid. If you wasn't Soda's kid brother I'd beat the tar out of you. You know better than to talk to Johnny like that." He put his hand on Johnny's shoulder. "He didn't mean it, Johnny."

"I'm sorry," I said miserably. Johnny was my buddy. "I was just mad."

"It's the truth," Johnny said with a bleak grin. "I don't care." 

“NO, ITS NOT.” Liam argued, lightly smacking Johnny’s arm. 

"Yeah, and shut up talkin' like that," Two-Bit said fiercely, messing up Johnny's hair. "We couldn't get along without you, so you can just shut up!"  
"It ain't fair!" I cried passionately. "It ain't fair that we have all the rough breaks!" I didn't know exactly what I meant, but I was thinking about Johnny's father being a drunk and his mother a selfish slob, and Two-Bit's mother being a barmaid to support him and his kid sister after their father ran out on them, and Dally--- wild, cunning Dally- -- turning into a hoodlum because he'd die if he didn't, and Steve--- his hatred for his father coming out in his soft, bitter voice and the violence of his temper. Sodapop... a dropout so he could get a job and keep me in school. Liam, trying not to keep people at school off his back and trying not to have a mental breakdown everyday from anxiety. And Darry, getting old before his time trying to run a family and hold on to two jobs and never having any fun--- while the Socs had so much spare time and money that they jumped us and each other for kicks, had beer blasts and river-bottom parties because they didn't know what else to do. Things were rough all over, all right. All over the East Side. It just didn't seem right to me. 

"I know," Two-Bit said with a good-natured grin, "the chips are always down when it's our turn, but that's the way things are. Like it or lump it."

Cherry and Marcia didn't say anything. I guess they didn't know what to say. We had forgotten they were there. Then the blue Mustang was coming down the street again, more slowly.

"Well," Cherry said resignedly, "they've spotted us."

The Mustang came to a halt beside us, and the two boys in the front seat got out. They were Socs all right. One had on a white shirt and a madras ski jacket, and the other a light yellow shirt and a wine-colored sweater. I looked at their clothes and realized for the first time that evening that all I had was a pair of jeans and Soda's old navy sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. I swallowed. Two-Bit started to tuck in his shirttail, but stopped himself in time; he just flipped up the collar of his black leather jacket and lit a cigarette. The Socs didn't even seem to see us. 

"Cherry, Marcia, listen to us..." the handsome black-haired Soc with the dark sweater began.

Johnny was breathing heavily and I noticed he was staring at the Soc's hand. He was wearing three heavy rings. I looked quickly at Johnny, an idea dawning on me. I remembered that it was a blue Mustang that had pulled up beside the vacant lot and that Johnny's face had been cut up by someone wearing rings…

The Soc's voice broke into my thoughts: "...just because we got a little drunk last time..."

Cherry looked mad. "A little? You call reeling and passing out in the streets 'a little'? Bob, I told you, I'm never going out with you while you're drinking, and I mean it. Too many things could happen while you're drunk. It's me or the booze." 

The other Soc, a tall guy with a semi-Beatle haircut, turned to Marcia. "Baby, you know we don't get drunk very often..." When she only gave him a cold stare he got angry. "And even if you are mad at us, that's no reason to go walking the streets with these bums." 

I looked at Liam. He had a plain, unbothered face on, but I could tell he was scared, because he has a tell. The reason I knew was because he was moving, touching, and fixing his hair every three seconds. He also fidgets like crazy. I could tell he was waiting for an opportunity to whip out his pink switch. 

Two-Bit took a long drag on his cigarette, Johnny slouched and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, Liam leaned on his left leg and put a hand through his hair, and I stiffened. We can look meaner than anything when we want to--- looking tough comes in handy. Two-Bit put his elbow on Johnny's shoulder, and a hand on Liam’s. "Who you callin' bums?"

"Listen, greasers, we got four more of us in the back seat..."

"Then pity the back seat," Two-Bit said to the sky.

"If you're looking for a fight..."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow, but it only made him look more cool. "You mean if I'm looking for a good jumping, you outnumber us, so you'll give it to us? Well..." He snatched up an empty bottle, busted off the end, and gave it to me, then reached in his back pocket and flipped out his switchblade. "Try it, pal."

"No!" Cherry cried. "Stop it!" She looked at Bob. "We'll ride home with you. Just wait a minute."

"Why?" Two-Bit demanded. "We ain't scared of them.”

Cherry shuddered. "I can't stand fights... I can't stand them..."

I pulled her to one side. "I couldn't use this," I said, dropping the pop bottle. "I couldn't ever cut anyone...." I had to tell her that, because I'd seen her eyes when Two-Bit flicked out his switch.

"I know," she said quietly, "but we'd better go with them. Ponyboy... I mean... if I see you in the hall at school or someplace and don't say hi, well, it's not personal or anything, but..."

"I know," I said.

"We couldn't let our parents see us with you all. You're a nice boy and everything..."

"It's okay," I said, wishing I was dead and buried somewhere. Or at least that I had on a decent shirt. "We aren't in the same class. Just don't forget that some of us watch the sunset too."

She looked at me quickly. "I could fall in love with Dallas Winston," she said. "I hope I never see him again, or I will."

She left me standing there with my mouth dropped open, and the blue Mustang vroomed off. 

“Oh, Pony…” Liam started. I noticed he stopped touching his hair. 

We walked on home, mostly in silence. I wanted to ask Johnny if those were the same Socs that had beaten him up, but I didn't mention it. Johnny never talked about it and we never said anything.

"Well, those were two good-lookin' girls if I ever saw any." Two-Bit yawned as we sat down on the curb at the vacant lot. He took a piece of paper out, of his pocket and tore it up.

"What was that?"

"Marcia's number. Probably a phony one, too. I must have been outa my mind to ask for it. I think I'm a little soused."

So he had been drinking. Two-Bit was smart. He knew the score. "Y'all goin' home?" he asked.

"Not right now," I said. I wanted to have another smoke and to watch the stars. I had to be in by twelve, but I thought I had plenty of time. 

“Actually, I will. I’m kinda tired, so I’m gonna head home.” Liam disclosed, standing up. 

“Boo!” I shouted, jokingly. Johnny joined in on yelling it with me. Liam laughed, rubbing his eyes. 

“Bye, y’all. See you at home, Ponyboy.” He waved a goodbye before running back home, disappearing after turning a corner back to our home. 

"I don't know why I handed you that busted bottle," Two-Bit said, getting to his feet. "You'd never use it."

"Maybe I would have," I said. "Where you headed?"

"Gonna go play a little snooker and hunt up a poker game. Maybe get rip-roarin' drunk. I dunno. See y'all tomorrow."

Johnny and I stretched out on our backs and looked at the stars. I was freezing--- it was a cold night and all I had was that sweat shirt, but I could watch stars in sub-zero weather. I saw Johnny's cigarette glowing in the dark and wondered vaguely what it was like inside a burning ember…

"It was because we're greasers," Johnny said, and I knew he was talking about Cherry. "We could have hurt her reputation." 

"I reckon," I said, wondering if I ought to tell Johnny what she had said about Dallas.

"Man, that was a tuff car. Mustangs are tuff.”

"Big time Socs, all right," I said, a nervous bitterness growing inside me. It wasn't fair for the Socs to have everything. We were as good as they were; it wasn't our fault we were greasers. I couldn't just take it or leave it, like Two-Bit, or ignore it and love life anyway, like Sodapop, or harden myself beyond caring, like Dally, or actually enjoy it, like Tim Shepard. I felt the tension growing inside of me and I knew something had to happen or I would explode.

"I can't take much more." Johnny spoke my own feelings. "I'll kill myself or something.” 

"Don't," I said, sitting up in alarm. "You can't kill yourself, Johnny."

"Well, I won't. But I gotta do something. It seems like there's gotta be someplace without greasers or Socs, with just people. Plain ordinary people."

"Out of the big towns," I said, lying back down. "In the country…”

In the country... I loved the country. I wanted to be out of towns and away from excitement. I only wanted to lie on my back under a tree and read a book or draw a picture, and not worry about being jumped or carrying a blade or ending up married to some scatterbrained broad with no sense. The country would be like that, I thought dreamily. I would have a yeller cur dog, like I used to, and Liam would have a whole new place to explore, what with the woods and stuff, and Sodapop could get Mickey Mouse back and ride in all the rodeos he wanted to, and Darry would lose that cold, hard look and be like he used to be, eight months ago, before Mom and Dad were killed. Since I was dreaming I brought Mom and Dad back to life... Mom could bake some more chocolate cakes and Dad would drive the pickup out early to feed the cattle. He would slap Darry on the back and tell him he was getting to be a man, a regular chip off the block, and they would be as close as they used to be. Maybe Johnny could come and live with us, and the gang could come out on weekends, and maybe Dallas would see that there was some good in the world after all, and Mom would talk to him and make him grin in spite of himself. "You've got quite a mom," Dally used to say. "She knows the score." She could talk to Dallas and kept him from getting into a lot of trouble. My mother was golden and beautiful…

"Ponyboy"--- Johnny was shaking me--- "Hey, Pony, wake up."

I sat up, shivering. The stars had moved. "Glory, what time is it?"

"I don't know. I went to sleep, too, listening to you rattle on and on. You'd better get home. I think I'll stay all night out here." Johnny's parents didn't care if he came home or not.

"Okay." I yawned. Gosh, but it was cold. "If you get cold or something come on over to our house."

"Okay.”

I ran home, trembling at the thought of facing Darry. The porch light was on. Maybe they were asleep and I could sneak in, I thought. I peeked in the window. Sodapop was stretched out on the sofa, sound asleep, while Liam was leaning against him, asleep in his PJ’s, but Darry was in the armchair under the lamp, reading the newspaper. I gulped, and opened the door softly. Darry looked up from his paper. He was on his feet in a second. I stood there, chewing on my fingernail.

"Where the heck have you been? Do you know what time it is?" He was madder than I'd seen him in a long time. I shook my head wordlessly.

"Well, it's two o’clock in the morning, kiddo. Another hour and I would have had the police out after you. Where were you, Ponyboy?"--- his voice was rising--- "Where in the almighty universe were you?"

It sounded dumb, even to me, when I stammered, "I... I went to sleep in the lot..." 

"You what?" He was shouting, and Sodapop sat up and rubbed his eyes.  
"Hey, Ponyboy," he said sleepily, "where ya been?" Liam sat up, exhausted, before realizing I was there, and he jumped up. “Pony!” He glanced at our living room clock. Two-oh-three. 

"I didn't mean to." I pleaded with Darry. "I was talking to Johnny and we both dropped off…”

"I reckon it never occurred to you that your brothers might be worrying their heads off and afraid to call the police because something like that could get you three thrown in a boys' home so quick it'd make your head spin. And you were asleep in the lot? Ponyboy, what on earth is the matter with you? Can't you use your head? You haven't even got a coat on."

I felt hot tears of anger and frustration rising. "I said I didn't mean to..."

"I didn't mean to!" Darry shouted, and I almost shook. "I didn't think! I forgot! That's all I hear out of you! Can't you think of anything?” 

I looked away from him, and saw Liam sitting on the stairs. He was touching his hair again, and fidgeting his hands. I wondered why he was nervous. Wasn’t I the one getting yelled at? 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Soda started to raise his voice at Darry, so he kept his mouth shut. 

"C’mon, Darry..." Sodapop began, but Darry turned on him. "You keep your trap shut!” I don’t ever think I’ve heard anyone yell that loud. Liam and I were still looking at each other then, he shook. He physically shook. Wasn’t he and Darry close? Why was he the one looking like he was gonna be sick? I didn’t understand then. “I'm sick and tired of hearin' you stick up for him."

He should never yell at Soda. Nobody should ever holler at Sodapop. I exploded. "You don't yell at him!" I shouted. Darry wheeled around and slapped me so hard that it knocked me against the door.

Suddenly it was deathly quiet. We had all frozen. Nobody in my family had ever hit me. Nobody. Soda was wide-eyed. Liam stopped breathing. Darry looked at the palm of his hand where it had turned red and then looked back at me. His eyes were huge.

“Ponyboy..."

I turned and ran out the door and down the street as fast as I could. Darry screamed, "Pony, I didn't mean to!" but I was at the lot by then and pretended I couldn't hear. I was running away. It was plain to me that Darry didn't want me around. And I wouldn't stay if he did. He wasn't ever going to hit me again. 

"Johnny?" I called, and started when he rolled over and jumped up almost under my feet. "Come on, Johnny, we're running away."

Johnny asked no questions. We ran for several blocks until we were out of breath. Then we walked. I was crying by then. I finally just sat down on the curb and cried, burying my face in my arms. Johnny sat down beside me, one hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy," he said softly, "we'll be okay."

I finally calmed down and wiped my eyes on my bare arm. My breath was coming in quivering sobs. "Gotta cigarette?"

He handed me one and struck a match.

"Johnny, I'm scared."

'Well, don't be. You're scarin' me. What happened? I never seen you bawl like that."

"I don't very often. It was Darry. He hit me. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't take him hollering at me and hitting me too. I don't know... sometimes we get along okay, then all of a sudden he blows up on me or else is naggin' at me all the time. He didn't use to be like that... we used to get along okay... before Mom and Dad died. Now he just can't stand me."

"I think I like it better when the old man's hittin' me." Johnny sighed. "At least then I know he knows who I am. I walk in that house, and nobody says anything. I walk out, and nobody says anything. I stay away all night, and nobody notices. At least you got Soda and Liam. I ain't got nobody."

"Shoot," I said, startled out of my misery, "you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang."

"It ain't the same as having your own folks care about you," Johnny said simply. "It just ain't the same." 

I was beginning to relax and wonder if running away was such a great idea. I was sleepy and freezing to death and I wanted to be home in bed, safe and warm under the covers with Soda's arm across me. I decided I would go home and just not speak to Darry. It was my house as much as Darry's, and if he wanted to pretend I wasn't alive, that was just fine with me. He couldn't stop me from living in my own house.

"Let's walk to the park and back. Then maybe I'll be cooled off enough to go home."

"Okay," Johnny said easily. "Okay."  
Things gotta get better, I figured. They couldn't get worse.


	4. Chapter 4

THE PARK WAS ABOUT two blocks square, with a fountain in the middle and a small swimming pool for the little kids. The pool was empty now in the fall, but the fountain was going merrily. Tall elm trees made the park shadowy and dark, and it would have been a good hangout, but we preferred our vacant lot, and the Shepard outfit liked the alleys down by the tracks, so the park was left to lovers and little kids.

Nobody was around at two-thirty in the morning, and it was a good place to relax and cool off. I couldn't have gotten much cooler without turning into a popsicle. Johnny snapped up his jeans jacket and flipped up the collar.

"Ain't you about to freeze to death, Pony?"

"You ain't a'woofin'," I said, rubbing my bare arms between drags on my cigarette. I started to say something about the film of ice developing on the outer edges of the fountain when a sudden blast from a car horn made us both jump. The blue Mustang was circling the park slowly.

Johnny swore under his breath, and I muttered, "What do they want? This is our territory. What are Socs doing this far east?"

Johnny shook his head. "I don't know. But I bet they're looking for us. We picked up their girls.” 

"Oh, glory," I said with a groan, "this is all I need to top off a perfect night" I took one last drag on my weed and ground the stub under my heel. "Want to run for it?"

"It's too late now," Johnny said. "Here they come."

Five Socs were coming straight at us, and from the way they were staggering I figured they were reeling pickled. That scared me. A cool deadly bluff could sometimes shake them off, but not if they outnumbered you five to two and were drunk. Johnny's hand went to his back pocket and I remembered his switchblade. I wished for that broken bottle. I'd sure show them I could use it if I had to. Johnny was scared to death. I mean it. He was as white as a ghost and his eyes were wild-looking, like the eyes of an animal in a trap. We backed against the fountain and the Socs surrounded us. They smelled so heavily of whiskey and English Leather that I almost choked. I wished desperately that Darry and Soda and Liam would come along hunting for me. The four of us could handle them easily. But no one was around, and I knew Johnny and I were going to have to fight it out alone. Johnny had a blank, tough look on his face--- you'd have had to know him to see the panic in his eyes. I stared at the Socs coolly. Maybe they could scare us to death, but we'd never let them have the satisfaction of knowing it. 

It was Randy and Bob and three other Socs, and they recognized us. I knew Johnny recognized them; he was watching the moonlight glint off Bob's rings with huge eyes.

"Hey, whatta ya know?" Bob said a little unsteadily, "here's the little greasers that picked up our girls. Hey, greasers."

"You're outa your territory," Johnny warned in a low voice. "You'd better watch it"

Randy swore at us and they stepped in closes. Bob was eyeing Johnny. "Nup, pal, yer the ones who'd better watch it. Next time you want a broad, pick up yer own kind--- dirt."

I was getting mad. I was hating them enough to lose my head.

"You know what a greaser is?" Bob asked. "White trash with long hair."  
I felt the blood draining from my face.

I've been cussed out and sworn at, but nothing ever hit me like that did.  
Johnnycake made a kind of gasp and his eyes were smoldering.

"You know what a Soc is?" I said, my voice shaking with rage. "White trash with Mustangs and madras." And then, because I couldn't think of anything bad enough to call them, I spit at them. Bob shook his head, smiling slowly. "You could use a bath, greaser. And a good working over. And we've got all night to do it. Give the kid a bath, David." 

I ducked and tried to run for it, a Soc tried to grab my arm, but I spun too fast for him to get ahold of me. I almost stumbled, but I didn’t let myself fall. I heard shouting and feet stomping not too far behind me. I tried to glance around my shoulder, but I only got so far before my neck stopped me. I saw Johnny sprinting next to me, panting like a dog. 

We were both exhausted from running for what seemed like hours, but we didn’t stop. We weren’t gonna get caught. I knew what they would do to us if they did. I was bawling my eyes out, making it hard to see, when I saw some familiar features of wherever in the world we were. 

We finally got into the streets of my neighbourhood, we could see my house from where we were. I just wanted to be inside, back inside my bed, with Soda laying next to me. 

We raced up the steps to my place, and I fumbled with the doorknob. “Open it, OPEN IT!” Johnny squeaked out, fear trembling with every word out of his mouth. I finally managed to twist the handle, and I opened the door, letting Johnny in first, me entering right behind him. 

I wondered how much noise we were making, and I knew I was going to wake up Darry (if he was even sleeping), but I didn’t care. It was either wake him up, or get beat real bad. I took my chances with the former. 

I ran to the window to look at the streets we were just pounding our feet on, leaning my body against a char, and saw the five soused Soc’s skidding to a halt, their liquored-up brains realizing they’re too late. They turned around, heading back for the park where they left their tuff mustang. 

I sighed in heavy relief, swiveling my head to my bug-eyed friend. I smiled, letting him know that we’ll be fine. He returned the smile, his eyes less wide. 

I heard some steps behind us come from the staircase, and without even looking I knew it was Darry. You’re not family if you can’t recognize each other’s steps. 

I got off the chair, turning my whole body around to face the stairs. Darry came down, still dressed in his jeans and black t-shirt. He took a few steps toward me, opening his mouth to say something. He didn’t look angry. He looked scared, almost frightened. 

“Ponyboy, I-” He started. 

I flew up my hand, stopping him from saying any more. “Save it.” I didn’t want to hear what he had to say, nor did I care. 

Johnny did a polite wave to Darry before I made my way past Darry to my room. I think Darry might’ve said hi, but I didn’t care. I stomped up the stairs, Johnny following closely behind me. 

The lights were on in my room, but I remembered shutting them off before I left with Dally, Johnny, and Liam. The TV was on in Soda’s room, which meant he was in his room and fast asleep. Soda always sleeps with the TV on. I guess he knew I’d make it back okay. I heard a voice coming from the room. 

I pushed the door open, and Liam was sitting on my bed, cross-legged. He was talking on his groupchat with Cas, Cathan, and Oliver Shepard. He looked up at me, his eyes a light shade of red and his face slick with old tears. He kind of gasped, before looking down back to his phone. 

“I’ll call you guys back later.” He said, rushing, before leaving the call without more than a ‘goodbye’. He jumped up, speeding to me before tackling me into a hug. I sort of flinched, but I reciprocated the hug. He pulled away, before laying into me. Boy, was he hacked off. 

“Where the hell did you go? You couldn’t’ve ran up to your room, could you?” Liam never gets angry or anythin’, so it kind of caught me off guard when he started yelling. 

He looked a lot like Darry then and there. 

“You could’ve gotten mugged! What if you ran into Bob and them?” 

I didn’t say anything. Liam’s eyes got wider with shock. “You ran into Bob? Pony, oh my g-” he paused, thinking for a second. “You know what? You already got an earful from Darry, and who wants to be yelled at by their kid brother? I’m just glad you guys didn’t get yourselves or someone else killed.” 

Liam turned his gaze to Johnny, who was just silently watching. “Also, hi Johnny. Sorry, I was too busy yelling at Pony, apparently.” Liam laughed, suddenly looking more like Soda than Darry. “Hey.” Johnny giggled along side him, wrapping their arms around each other in quick squeeze. 

“What happened after I ran out?” I questioned. Liam’s expression became a little serious, an emotion I’m not used to seeing in his face. “Darry sort of panicked. He kept saying he didn’t mean to. Soda was trying to say that you’ll use your head and be fine. He tried to say something to me about you, but I didn’t listen. I went to your room, obviously, and I haven’t spoken to Darry since. I’m still mighty pissed at him. I still can’t believe he hit you.” His eyes had travelled to the ground, exhaling before moving his gaze back to us, shrugging. 

“Anyway, y’all, I’m deadass tired, and you’re clearly both alive, so there’s no need for me to stay awake any longer, so I’m going to bed. Love you both, and I’m gone!” He walked right by us, out the door, before swinging on the doorframe, snapping a hand into a finger gun. “Night.” He winked, dancing his way to his room. 

I rolled my eyes jokingly, as if Liam could see. I turned to Johnny “Listen, I’m gonna go check in on Soda, you get ready for bed, and I’ll meet you in a second. You can steal my PJ’s, if ya want.” 

Johnny grinned “Oh, absolutely, I was gonna do that whether you let me or not.” 

“Whatever.” I laughed, rolling my eyes as I walked out of my room and down the hall into Soda’s room. I made sure to tiptoe past Darry’s room, but not because I didn’t want him to wake up. I just didn’t want him to talk to me. 

I didn’t bother knocking on Soda’s door like I usually did, and just let myself in. “Soda? Soda?” I muttered. He stirred in his bed, before realizing it was me and sitting up. “Pony! You’re back!” He said, his morning voice coming through. 

“Yeah. Johnny and I went through the park, and I’ve calmed down. You still gonna try to say that Darry loves me?” 

Soda frowned. “Pony. He got mad, is all. I don’t think hitting you was the right answer, but he didn’t mean it. Honest.” 

“Sure.” I responded, trying to end that portion of the conversation for Soda’s sake. “I heard what happened after I left.” 

“Oh, yeah, Liam told you? He got real mad. Like, some of the maddest I’ve ever seen him.” Soda commented. 

I cocked my eyebrows. “Really? He didn’t tell me that.” 

“Oh, yeah, he was real mad. He yelled at Darry for a second, too. Right after you ran out, he shouted ‘What the f*ck was that?’ And told Darry how in the wrong he was, before running upstairs and slamming the door. The man can throw down.” 

I laughed. I couldn’t imagine Liam yelling at Darry. They always seemed to get along just fine, and with Liam always having Soda’s happy-go-lucky personality, it’s hard to picture him yelling at anyone, much less his his downright role model. 

Soda and I talked for a bit longer until we both almost passed out from exhaustion. We exchanged goodnights and hugs before we went to bed. I got back into my room, and found Johnny conked out on my bed. I tried not to wake him, so I snuck into the empty space next to him. I put a hand under my head to cushion it. 

I went over the events of tonight in my head. Went to the movies, got slapped, ran to the park, got chased, went to sleep. I exhaled. At least I was back in my own house. I don’t care about Darry. I’ll just pretend he’s not there. He’s gotten pretty good at it, so I thought I’d give it a shot.


	5. Chapter 5

AS I WOKE UP from my sleep, I heard the familiar sounds of people who I couldn’t place talking. I stirred, before sitting up on my bed. It turns out, it was Johnny watching SSSniperwolf next to me. 

“Are you seriously watching YouTube?” I asked, sitting up. “Yes, she’s pretty and funny.” Johnny snapped back, smiling. I shook my head. 

“Pretty? Maybe. Funny? No.” I respond. I glanced over to the clock on my nightstand, and see it’s 10:30. That means I need to head downstairs for breakfast. “If you don’t think Alia is the queen of YouTube, we can’t be friends, Pony.” 

“I’m fine with that.” I jokingly respond, getting up from the warm bed, the cold air hitting my skin. It didn’t bother me any, though. I went through my drawers trying to find a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt. Johnny scoffed. “Really? You’re willing to drop our whole friendship because of this?” I pulled out some clothes, making my way to the door to head to the washroom. 

“100%, yes.” I said, exiting my room, giving Johnny a small salute before doing so. 

As I changed in the bathroom, I remembered what Two-Bit had said to me. “You must make such interesting conversation, what with Johnny not talking and you keeping your trap shut.” I laughed, sliding the jeans over my legs. 

Our interesting conversations are about SSSniperwolf. Nice. 

I tossed my PJ’s in the hamper, and walked out of the bathroom. What I did not expect, though, was to crash into someone on the way out. “Jesus!” The person shouted. As soon as they said that, I knew it was Liam. After the initial shock, we both started to chuckle. Liam’s room is perpendicular to the bathroom, so I’d imagine It’d be easy to bonk into someone else. 

“Sweet Jesus, you scared the hell outta me, Pony. Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you or nothin’?” He asked, slightly tilting his head to make sure I didn’t bruise. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I reassured. 

Liam looked around the hall, glancing back at me. “Soda’s in his room, and Darry’s downstairs, he’s making breakfast.” He informed, slightly grinning. “Which, um, should be fun for you.” 

“You, too. Soda told me what fully happened after I ran out.” I shrugged, waiting for a reaction. His eyes slightly bulged, not expecting what I said. His mouth curled into a guilty grin. “Yeah. That was, uh, a fun moment. And by fun, I mean completely awful.” 

“Oh, yeah. It sounds perfect.” 

“It really was.” He joked. “Anyway, would you like to come downstairs with me? Because I lowkey don’t wanna have to go through that by myself.” 

“You’re brave enough to yell at him, but you’re afraid to be in the same room as him.” I jokingly state, Johnny walking out of my room with the same clothes he had on yesterday. 

Liam pointed a finger at me “Actually, I’m afraid to be in the same room as him because I yelled at him.” He corrected “Get it right, Pony.” I raised my hands, in a surrender. “Of course, of course, my mistake.” 

“Boys! Come down!” Our oldest brother yelled. Liam rolled his eyes. He pointed up finger guns, spun his whole body around, and started for the stairs. “Let’s go.” We all giggled as we descended the stairs. 

Once we got downstairs, Liam and I’s smiles had dissipated into frowns in mere seconds. Well, maybe not frowns, but they definitely weren’t grins. 

“Morning, kiddos.” Darry awkwardly smiled, motioning his head toward the table. “Food’s on the counter.” Liam slightly nodded, not bothering to look Darry in the eyes. I whispered out no more than a small “Thanks,” before also heading to the counter. 

Liam, Johnny and I sat down next to each other. Johnny on the left, Liam in the middle, and me on the right. Our plates were already set when we heard our front door opening, Steve, Dally, and Two-Bit running through the door, spinning, dancing, whooping and cheering, acting like complete goons. 

They quickly recognized the tone of the kitchen and they all stopped, the atmosphere more awkward than ever. I don’t know if Soda told the rest about what happened last night, although I had the feeling Soda at least told Steve, because Soda tells Steve everything no matter what it is. And if he told Steve, Steve told Two-Bit and Dally. 

Soda came rushing down the stairs, wearing jeans and trying to get his shirt on correctly, his arm through the space where his neck should go. Steve sauntered up to Soda, putting an arm on his shoulder. “Uh, babe?” He asked “I think that’s not the right way to put on your shirt, try your head.” Soda shifted around his shirt before successfully getting his head through. They both chucked, pulling each other in for a quick kiss. 

I shook my head and rolled my eyes as a joke. Soda laughed at my reaction, while Steve slightly grinned. Steve walked around to Liam and rustled his hair around. “Dude, this took forever to style.” Liam half-jokingly complained. Steve chortled “Oh, no, I’m… terribly sorry.” Steve faked, rustling his hair again, only messing up his hair even more. 

Everyone sat down in an uncomfortable silence. I wasn’t used to everyone not talking, singing, dancing, wrestling… it was just… dead silent. 

Soda sat wide-eyed, looking around the room, his eyes searching for something I wasn’t aware of. Steve had a hand placed over Soda’s. 

Dally looked uncomfortable, but not too bothered. It takes a lot to get to Dallas. Two-Bit was flipping his fork in his hand, pretending nothing was happening. I wished I could pretended that well. 

Liam and Johnny both stared at their plates, their faces telling two different emotions. Johnny looked nervous, like something bad would happen if he dared to look up. Liam focused on his food, acting pissed off. 

It was so weird seeing him with that expression. It didn’t fit Liam to not be giggling at a joke, fidgeting around or just being a ball of energy. Instead, he looked like a stone statue. 

I looked at Darry a few times during the meal, but only for a few seconds at a time, as I didn’t want him to catch me looking at him. 

Liam wasn’t so careful with his glares, though, because he got caught halfway through, racing his eyes away from Darry’s as soon as he looked at him. 

Darry threw his fork down on his plate, frustrated. “Ça va (You good)?” He switched to French, a thing he normally did when he was mad. Darry had learned French from our dad, who had learned it being born and growing up in Canada. Our mom was born here in Tulsa, which makes us half Canadian. It’s pretty cool, until you got someone like Two-Bit asking which brand of maple syrups our favourite. 

“Je vais tout à fait bien, toi (I am totally fine, you)?” Liam barked back, with a fake grin plastered on his face. I could understand partially what they were sayin’, but they were speaking so fast it was hard to catch a lot of what they were saying, so I went on facial expressions to tell what they’re saying. 

“Bien. Mais pourquoi continuez-vous de me regarder (Good. I just wanted to know why you keep glaring at me)?” Darry questioned, this sentence sharper than the last.

“Il ne faut pas un scientifique de fusée pour comprendre (It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out).” Liam snarked. What he said really hacked Darry off. “Putain d'excuse moi (f*cking excuse me?” He demanded, his voice getting louder. 

Everyone besides the two were looking at each other, confused, uncomfortable, and slightly scared. Being bilingual would really help right about now. 

“Tu m'as entendu (you heard me).” Liam responded, keeping his cool. I could tell he was getting nervous though, as he brushed his hand through his hair, flicking it out of his eyes quickly. 

Darry stood up and started yelling. I flinched, remembering last night. Johnny’s eyes got real wide. “PUTAIN, NE ME PARLE PAS DE CETTE FAÇON (Don’t f*cking to me that way.” Soda stuck a hand out to Darry, trying to make him calm down. 

He stood up, too, but less angrily. Liam smiled, in disbelief. “SI TU ESSAYAIS DE NE PAS FRAPPER MON FRÈRE, NOUS N’AURIONS PAS CE PROBLÈME (If you tried not to hit my brother, we wouldn't have this problem)!” 

That’s the loudest I’ve ever heard Liam shout. I barely understood what he said, but I think he said “maybe don’t hit our brother”? Or something to that effect. 

Darry got less angry, but looked hurt. He looked like a kicked little puppy. 

We stood in silence for a few seconds, before we heard a knock on the door. Liam shrugged, before slapping his hand on his thigh, annoyed. “I’ll get it.” 

He left the table, rushing to see who was at our front door. Darry sat back down, defeated. Liam opened the door, to see Cas and Cathan standing, smiling. They didn’t seem to notice the tension in the room. 

“Hey Liam!!” Cas grinned, leaning grims arm against the doorframe. “Hey!” Cathan smiled, waving at the gang behind us. Oliver had a hand on cathans shoulder, peering into the house. 

I hopped up from my seat, following Liam to say hi to them both. 

“Um, kinda not the time, y’all.” Liam grimaced, subtly motioning his hand to the dead silent table. I noticed Darry wasn’t at his seat, but instead in the kitchen, assuming he was refilling his coffee mug. 

“Uh… what happened?” Cas asked, confused. ”It was a little awkward after last night, and I, um…” Liam spoke in a hushed voice, “I may or may not have yelled at Darry. I… kinda lost my cool.” 

“No shit??” I whisper-yelled. Liam frowned at me. “Okay, the sass was not needed, Pony.” 

I shrugged while Cas, Oliver, and Cathan giggled at how annoyed Liam was. 

“Uh, wait here, I’ll be outside in a minute. We’ll go for a walk, okay? I just need to put my plate and stuff away.” 

They all agreed, and waited on the front porch. 

Liam and I made our way back to the table. Everyone was finished anyway, so we decided to pick up the dishes we had dirtied, putting them in the sink. 

“Who was at the door?” Soda asked. “Cathan, Cas and Oliver.” I answered, leaning against the cabinet. ”They wanted to go for a walk. I’ll be back later.” Liam continued, pulling out his phone for the time. 

“You’re leaving?” Darry asked, no detectable emotion on his face or in his voice. “Yeah.” Liam said, staring at his phone for a split second before putting it back safely into his jeans pocket. “Pony, Johnny, you two wanna come?” 

Johnny didn’t say anything, so I decided to “Yeah, sure, we’ll come.” 

“See you guys later.” Dally nodded, pulling out a cigarette and his lighter. 

Everyone except Darry said goodbyes as we left the house. I had forgotten how cold it was, luckily this time I remembered to wear a sweater instead of just my muscle shirt. Liam shuddered. 

“GOD, that was a whole lot to deal with in fifteen minutes.” He chuckled. 

Cathan paused. “Would you care to explain what just happened, you mong?” “Oh, um, yeah, that would probably make sense. So, we were at the table…” 

We walked for ten minutes, as Liam explained everything that happened over the course of fifteen minutes. 

“Jeez, man!” Cas laughed. “That’s really something.” 

“I don’t know whether to be offended or to take that as a compliment.” Liam said, tilting his head. “Compliment, don’t worry.” Cas chuckled. 

“That’s quite a chew you got yourself in.” Cathan nodded “and with Darry? I’m surprised you’re still intact.” 

“No joke.” Oliver laughed “Darry is real scary, hell, he makes me nervous when he’s in a good mood.” 

“What Oliver said. I didn’t know you had it in ya.” I shuffled my left hand into my pocket in an attempt to warm my hand up, my other hand occupied, clutching a cigarette between my fingers. 

Liam scrunched his eyebrows “What do ya mean?”. 

“Well, Darry’s your literal role model, I wasn’t aware you could yell at him, nonetheless even get angry at him.” 

Liam looked at me, his face covered in confused disgust. “Pony,” he said, dumbfounded. “he hit you. What was I supposed to do? Let it slide?” He huffed. I looked down, back at the hole in my tennis shoe. We had stopped walking by now. 

“Yeah, I know, but still.” I rebutted. 

Slow down, Pony, don’t use too many words. 

“What? No ‘but still,’ Darry had hit you. For literally nothing. I love Darry, yeah, but hitting you was all sorts of f*cked up. He broke your trust yesterday, and you know what? Him hitting you scared me. Darry’s a lot bigger than you and me. What if he hit too hard? What if he ended up doing more than leaving a small mark? What if when you fell against the door, you smacked your head and you got a concussion?” 

He stopped, and took a deep breath. I didn’t really know what to say. He was right. 

“I don’t even know why I’m this upset. I really don’t. He hit you, not me. It’s just a real shitty thing he did, and just- I’m mad. That’s it.” 

“Glory, me too, Liam.” I forced out, awkwardly. “Well, yeah, you too.” He laughed. “Johnny, dude, you’ve been silent for the past 10 minutes, you good?” 

Johnny smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?” “I’m fine, you?” Liam responded. 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m fine, you?” 

“I’m fine, you-” 

“Oh my GOD, both of you, pack it in.” Cathan sighed. “Yous sound like twats.” 

“Mean.” Liam giggled. “Yeah, rude.” Cas added. Liam and Cas laughed. 

Liam's phone buzzed “hold on.” He stared at the screen, before grimacing. “Darry just texted. He said we’re all watching the football game at the house tonight at seven thirty.” He glanced up at me. “Yay.” He typed something into his phone, before putting it back in his pocket. 

“We have a bit of time before we have to get back, right? We can’t stay out too late, else Bob will probably attack us from the shadows.” I noted. Everyone laughed, nodding. 

“We still have 7 hours before dark.” Liam smiled. “Let’s have some fun.”


End file.
